Storms and Scarabs

by H. R. Hobbs

  “I didn’t think it would be that easy,” Brock muttered under his breath.

  Neither did Mitch. Even if the stone in the mural did set off the spyglass, they’d never have been able to get it out of there. And Mitch knew, by the pride and reverence Jabari displayed while showing them the temple, that he’d never help them get it out of the necklace.

  Mitch learned one thing, though. Not just any stone was going to bring the spyglass back to life and get them home.

  The pharaoh himself had the stone.

  They would have to rob the pharaoh.

  Chapter 16

  A week later, Mitch and Brock found themselves hanging with Metjen, learning how to use a chisel and hammer to form a sarcophagus.

  “Ouch!”

  Pain shot up Mitch’s finger. He gave it a shake. His hand was going to be black and blue tomorrow. It was the fifth time he’d missed the chisel and hit his finger. His arm ached from swinging the hammer. Tearing linen was looking better all the time.

  “Gentle,” Metjen said over and over. “Gentle, gentle.”

  Mitch knew the meaning of the word in Metjen’s language because Metjen had said it at least a million times.

  “You don’t need to hit it that hard. And your finger will thank you for it,” Brock added.

  Mitch grumbled to himself and tried again.

  Jabari had taken pity on them yesterday when they complained that they were bored tearing linen and wanted to try something new. That’s how he and Brock had ended up here, sitting at opposite ends of a boulder that lay in the courtyard of the shop.

  Part of Mitch’s frustration came from the fact that Brock hadn’t hit his hand once. In fact, he’d chiseled a smoothed area on top of the rock. Mitch would have been jealous at how easily Brock had taken to Egypt if he didn’t still hate the food. Eating Egyptian food was the only thing Mitch had mastered.

  Raising his hammer, he placed his chisel on the rock and tried again. Just as he was about to hit the chisel, shouts arose from inside the shop. Surprised, he wacked his finger again.

  “OUCH!”

  There was Jabari, running towards the front of the shop. He stopped and waved frantically at Metjen, who jumped to his feet and held his palm up to them. It was clear he wanted them to stay put. Both men hurried to the front of the shop.

  “What was that all about?” Brock said after they left.

  “I don’t know. But I’ve never seen them in such a panic before. Maybe we should go check it out.” Mitch sucked on his still-stinging finger.

  Brock cast a worried look towards the shop. “Metjen wants us to stay here. I’m sure there’s a reason for it.”

  Brock was probably right. Mitch was just looking for an excuse not to rap his finger with the hammer again.

  The voices could be heard coming towards the courtyard. Thinking it was Jabari and Metjen, the boys continued to chisel away at the boulder. It wasn’t until they heard their names that they looked up to see Jabari and, not Metjen but the high priest, standing in the courtyard.

  So much for not seeing him again, Mitch thought.

  Jabari wrung his hands nervously as the priest spoke to him. Mitch didn’t know what he was saying, but he knew it was about him and Brock. Again, the priest settled the same piercing gaze on Mitch, who looked down, thinking maybe that would stop him from being hypnotized again. If that was really what happened at the temple.

  “He’s talking about us,” Brock whispered out of the side of his mouth.

  “I know,” Mitch replied through clenched teeth.

  Jabari motioned back towards the shop as he said something. The priest ignored him and instead came towards the boys. Jabari frantically gestured behind the priest’s back for them to stand as he hurried to catch up.

  Still holding his tools, Mitch stood and faced the priest. His height was much more imposing up close.

  The priest said a single word. The boys looked at each other. The word meant “hello.” Mitch silently thanked Rehema for her language lessons and repeated the word back to the tall man.

  The priest nodded, smirking, as if their knowledge of that one word didn’t fool him. He spoke to Jabari, who stood twisting his fingers.

  Jabari turned to the boys. “Our Holiness says you are not from here. I have told him that you have only recently arrived from the south and are still learning our language.”

  The priest spoke again and Jabari replied before translating.

  “Our Holiness says that it has been a long time since he has encountered anyone from the south. I told him that you have come to work as apprentices in my shop and then you will return to your homeland. This is correct, yes?”

  The boys nodded in unison. As Jabari spoke to them, Mitch could feel the priest’s eyes studying him closely. He shifted uncomfortably.

  “Our Holiness has come bearing great news. Pharaoh has bestowed the highest honour on us. Pharaoh has made our shop the royal embalming shop.

  Mitch’s eyes widened at the news. This could be the opportunity they were waiting for. If Jabari was the royal embalmer, the chance that they could get their hands on some lapis lazuli and get home just got better.

  Jabari gave the boys a pointed look before bowing. Following Jabari, both boys bowed as well. With a long look at Mitch, the priest turned and left the courtyard. Jabari and his men following close behind.

  Mitch stared at the doorway to the hall they’d just disappeared into.

  “That guy gives me the creeps.” Brock sat down and resumed working on the rock. “Did you see the way he looked at us? It’s like he knows who we are.”

  Mitch considered telling Brock about the moment outside the palace and the invisible bands he’d felt wrap around him when Ammon looked at him. He decided against it, telling himself that it was probably just his imagination.

  “I know,” Mitch said absently. “It seems awfully strange that the pharaoh would suddenly decide to switch embalming shops, don’t you think?”

  Brock shrugged. “It could just be a coincidence.”

  Mitch looked out the doorway Ammon and Jabari had left through. “I don’t think anything to do with Ammon is a coincidence.”

  “You’re probably right. Jabari will fill us in when he gets back.”

  The sound of Brock’s hammer hitting the chisel jolted Mitch from his thoughts. The boys went back to chiseling. When Mitch hit his hand for the seventh time, he threw the tools to the ground.

  “That’s it! I’m not going to have any fingers left if I keep hitting them.” He sat with his back to the rock and tucked his hand into his armpit, hoping it would make it feel better.

  It didn’t.

  Jabari found them some time later. It was not the same Jabari who sat down on the ground beside Mitch. This Jabari couldn’t sit still. He was obviously excited about something. Brock put down his tools and sat with his back to the rock.

  “Is the priest gone?” Mitch asked.

  “Yes. I want you to understand that it is a great honour for my shop to become the royal embalmer. This honour is usually passed down from family to family. I cannot tell you the last time Pharaoh changed who attends to the burial of the royal family.”

  “Did he say why the pharaoh decided this?”

  “No, and one does not ask this question. It is not for me to question Pharaoh.”

  While Mitch wanted to join in Jabari’s excitement about this new development, something didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure if it was the way Ammon studied him and Brock . . . but he got the feeling that Ammon didn’t believe their story. This was going to be good for Jabari, and for Jabari’s family, yeah. But he wasn’t sure if it was going to be good for him and Brock.

  “Anyway, there is no need to worry about Ammon,” Jabari continued. “Pharaoh will live for many years. You will probably never see the high priest again.”

  You keep saying that, Mitch thought.

  Chapter 17

  Mitch wa
nted Jabari’s prediction to be true. He really did. But he wasn’t surprised when a message came to the shop late one day, two weeks after Ammon’s visit.

  The boys had just got back from the market, where Jabari had sent them to get some lunch. When they neared the shop with their kebabs, they could hear Jabari and Metjen’s voices coming from inside. Stepping into the shop, they found Jabari and Metjen in a panic. A man the boys had never seen before stood inside with his back to them as they entered. From the gold belt he wore, Mitch guessed he was a representative of the pharaoh. He wore a blue tunic that came to his knees, and sandals. His head was shaved except for a braided ponytail that fell to his shoulder. Jabari was reading a scroll. Metjen read over his shoulder. The messenger waited.

  Jabari’s eyes were wide when he lifted his head and spoke to the messenger.

  The messenger gave a quick nod.

  “What is it?” Mitch asked a stunned Jabari.

  “Pharaoh’s son is dead.”

  “The pharaoh has a son?”

  “What happened?” Brock asked.

  “It does not say. Only that Pharaoh wants us to attend to his son’s remains.”

  He then spoke to the messenger again, who gave a one-word answer. The messenger wasn’t a big talker.

  “The body will be delivered at any moment. We must begin preparations.”

  Jabari immediately began shouting orders to Metjen and the other men. Finally, noticing Mitch and Brock standing beside him, he started snapping out instructions.

  “Boys, I need you to take the baskets from over there”—he pointed to stacks of baskets along the wall—“and put all the linens you have prepared in them, and then keep preparing more.”

  The boys handed Jabari the lunch they’d purchased for him. He placed it on the counter and went back to shouting out instructions. The messenger went and stood outside the shop. The boys went to the workroom and did as Jabari had asked.

  “Jabari seems a little stressed,” Mitch said. “I imagine the death of the pharaoh’s son would be shocking.”

  Mitch lifted a stack of linens and put them into the basket Brock was holding. When they had packed all the linens in baskets, they went to find Jabari.

  It appeared a sandstorm had landed in the room where the sarcophagus was carved. The men were using brooms made of straw to sweep up the dust and rocks that were the result of creating a sarcophagus. The men scooped up the dirt and carried it out the door. Metjen sprinkled water over the floor to keep the dust down.

  “Where do you want these?” Brock asked as Jabari came towards them.

  “Put them in the body room.” He waved absently and hurried on to the next room to see how the men were doing.

  The boys put the baskets on the wooden counter of the body room. They surveyed the room. The other counters were covered with tools. Pails sat under a table at the center of the room. The table itself was covered with linen. Mitch felt a shiver run up his spine. It brought back memories of their first day in the shop . . . seeing the merchant’s dead body for the first time.

  I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this, he thought to himself.

  A commotion in the front of the shop drew the boys out of the room. Six men were carrying a stretcher down the hallway. It wasn’t easy. The hallway was narrow. The men held the body high above their heads. Jabari stood at the door of the body room and motioned them inside. From there he directed them to lay the body on the table.

  Mitch and Brock stood in the shadows of the hallway and watched as the men lifted the body onto the table. They stared at the figure hidden under a sheet. Mitch watched the body, afraid that at any moment it would move.

  Mummy nightmares tonight for sure, he thought.

  The men who had delivered the body left and the men of the shop formed a circle around the body. The boys inched a little closer, attempting to see what was happening.

  Jabari pulled back the sheet and Mitch heard Brock’s sudden intake of breath. Laying on the table was a young man in his early twenties. A white tunic covered his body. A ray of sun streaming through a high window glinted off the gold belt and collar around his neck. Like the messenger, his head was shaved.

  Jabari and the men stood and looked at the young man. No one spoke.

  Moments later, a messenger came to the doorway, walked past Mitch and Brock, and spoke a few words to Jabari. It was the same messenger from before. A tingling of fear ran up Mitch’s spine as he recognized one word: Ammon.

  The messenger turned and left.

  Jabari’s prediction that they would never see the high priest again was about to be proven wrong. Again.

  There was no getting away from this guy.

  Jabari gave the men tasks to perform before the priest’s arrival. They hurried to do his bidding while Jabari waved the boys over for their instructions.

  “I need you to go into your workroom and stay there. The priest will be here any minute. I do not want him to see you here.”

  Mitch was glad to follow Jabari’s instructions. He couldn’t shake the feeling of trepidation every time he was near that priest.

  “What do you think happened to him?” Brock asked as they sat tearing linen.

  The young man’s dead body flashed in Mitch’s mind. “No idea. I’m not sure what kind of things kill princes in Ancient Egypt.” He added more linen strips to his stack. “But I remember seeing a man in the market the day we arrived, and his fingers gone. I think he had that flesh-eating disease . . . ?”

  “Leprosy?”

  “Yeah, that it! Maybe he had that.”

  “Did you see if he was injured in any way?”

  “No. Did you? From what I could see, his body was perfectly fine.”

  “Me too. It seemed like a shock to Jabari and the men. So it doesn’t sound like he’s been sick or anything like that.”

  The boys could only guess at what happened to the pharaoh’s son. Mitch guessed he’d been poisoned. He was too young for a heart attack. Brock guessed it was some apocalyptic disease.

  “I wish we had a way to find out about diseases,” he said. “I don’t want to catch some weird disease and take it back home.”

  Mitch hadn’t thought of that. Brock was also assuming they would eventually get home—something that was looking further away with each day they spent here.

  When the men started to rush around the shop again, they knew the priest had arrived. Voices came from the body room. The boys worked quietly, not wanting to have the priest overhear them and come into their workroom. The voices died down and the shop was quiet for a number of minutes. Then there was more talking and silence again. The voices got closer to the hallway.

  Jabari came to the workroom and spoke quietly. “The high priest would like you to fetch the canopic jars from the litter out front.”

  Surprised, the boys followed Jabari. They stopped before the high priest, who was standing in the hallway. Ammon motioned the boys to the front of the shop.

  On the street, the boys found eight men waiting by a large litter. Ammon gestured to the back. Sitting behind the covered compartment were four jars, all about two feet tall. These weren’t clay pots like the ones in the shop—these were carved out of a stone that was nearly transparent, like some kind of unpolished crystal. Afraid to touch such precious pieces, Mitch slowly reached forward and lifted one of the jars. Anubis, a dog representing the god of death, sat on the top. Brock picked up the one with a hawk representing Ra. Jabari pointed to a spot on the counter when the boys entered the body room. Placing them down gently, they returned to the litter to get the last two jars.

  Ammon watched them carefully all the while.

  When they’d delivered the last two, they turned to go back to their workroom. Ammon stepped in front of the doorway and started speaking. Unable to understand what he was saying, they looked to Jabari, who translated.

  “The high priest says that he has been thinking about you ever since he met
you. You, Mitch. He says that you remind him of someone, but he is not sure who.”

  Mitch shifted uncomfortably at Jabari’s words. They confirmed what he’d been feeling since they’d first laid eyes on Ammon. It had to be his great-grandpa, right? But Ammon would have been a young boy at best when George was here. Jabari had recognized him as being related to George, though. Did Ammon recognize him too?

  “Because you are new to our country, he would like to invite you to the palace for a visit while you are here, to learn more about you.”

  “We aren’t going to be here long.” Brock blurted out the words.

  Mitch jabbed Brock in the ribs. Their story was that they were to be here to apprentice for two years.

  Jabari spoke to Ammon, then said to the boys: “I told the high priest that you would be most delighted to visit.” The look he gave them said this was a request not to be denied.

  The boys shuffled their feet at Jabari’s words.

  “We would be honored.”

  Jabari repeated their reply, and the priest bowed his head.

  “He looks forward to the visit. He will send a litter for you tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow? Mitch hadn’t expected it to happen that quickly.

  Ammon turned in a flurry of robes and left the shop.

  After he’d left, Mitch turned to Brock. “You just about blew our cover.”

  Brock bowed his head. “I know.”

  “No harm done,” Jabari said. “Thank goodness, he does not understand English.”

  Oh, right, Mitch thought. He’d been so scared of Ammon, so sure the priest knew him, that he’d forgotten.

  “But now we have to go to the palace tomorrow,” he complained. “Why would he invite us? We’re just lowly linen-tearers.”

  “You are right. It’s unlike Ammon to invite people to the palace.” He thought for a moment. “We must be very careful. I will insist that I come along to interpret for you.”

  Mitch felt better knowing that Jabari would be coming along. But he still couldn’t help the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach every time he thought about spending time with that high priest.